


could you hold me without any talking?

by winterpolis



Category: Archie Comics
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Falling In Love, Healing, Minor Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper, Moving On
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterpolis/pseuds/winterpolis
Summary: As the seasons change, so does Betty's heart.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Reggie Mantle
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	1. prelude — hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! sorry for the prolonged absence—life has been tough and i was working on some other projects. but i'm back with a new fic and i hope ya'll will like it. this wouldn't let me go til i wrote at least one chapter, so here we are with the first one. barebones of the story is already in mind, but i have yet to flesh out the rest of the plot. as such, updates may take a while, sorry about that! enjoy, x.

_i know your heart hurts the most at 3 am_

_i love you still, i always will, but this needs to change_

* * *

The cold wind bites at Betty’s cheeks, tiny snowflakes swirling and settling on the tear tracks where they have yet to dry on her flushed skin.

It’s a little over forty-eight hours since she’s come home for the holidays, and already, she can’t wait to leave. For a hometown-loving gal such as herself, this is unusual; but nothing about her return to Riverdale this year has been pleasant since she’s arrived. A true tragedy, if she’s being honest, since the best part of coming home is _being_ home.

Riverdale is beautifully quaint during Christmastime, bright lights and festive décor breathing life unto the town in every corner. The spirit of the holiday hangs like a cozy blanket over its streets, red and green wreaths tacked onto streetlamps and the smell of peppermint and gingerbread clinging onto the pavement well into January. Every house is decked with thematic decorations meant to complement its neighbors’, and the overall effect imitates a Hallmark movie’s depiction of Santa Town.

It’s the perfect way to get a weary college student into the holiday year after year, but it seems the magic of Riverdale during Christmas has finally run its course this year.

Feeling tears pool in the corner of her eyes as she thinks back to the events of earlier that night, Betty trudges through the snow, thankful for the empty streets at this ungodly hour. She doesn’t have the energy nor mental capacity to make small talk with well-meaning townsfolk or merry carolers at the moment, and she would rather no one but the moon see her current face of agony and despair.

As she mindlessly turns the next corner, a familiar house comes into view. It’s tastefully decked out in holiday cheer: twinkling fairy lights line the rafters and weave into the Christmas garlands wrapped around the front porch beams and the frames of the large bay windows. On one side of the yard, a slightly lopsided snowman has been built to stand guard over a life-sized Santa sleigh attached to minimalist wooden reindeer. On the other, the decades-old tree is strung with light baubles, the mid-mark of the trunk wrapped in bright red ribbon. Even the mail box has been painted for the season, red candy cane stripes breaking up the usual white.

Finding her eyes drawn to the warm glow beckoning from the porch, Betty feels the weight in her chest ease the slightest bit at the sight of a beautiful Christmas wreath hanging from the front door and completing the picture-perfect scene. Without thinking it through, she makes her way up the driveway on shaky legs. The number thirteen peeks up at her through the middle of the wreath, and faint recognition of whose house this is registers in the back of her mind.

She’s a moment away from ringing the door bell when a particularly strong gust of wind blows past, shaking her out of her stupor. It takes a second more for her brain to finally catch up, but once it does, a pang of longing and loss envelops her heart.

_What am I doing here?_

Taking a step back from the door, she shakes her head to herself.

_He probably doesn’t want to see me._

Raising a mitten-covered hand, she swipes at her tears and quietly sniffles.

_But I want to see him. Especially with everything that’s happened. I told you so’s be damned._

Before she can lose her nerve, she rings the doorbell. As she waits for the door to open, her thoughts drift to the events of the past few hours.

_What a night. And to think I’d been so excited!_

A mere few hours ago, Alice Cooper had informed her daughter that her on again-off again boyfriend had asked to see her at Pop’s after dinner. Apparently, he’d dropped by while Betty was in the shower and asked her mother to deliver the message instead.

Upon doing so, Alice furrowed her brow in the way she always did when the topic of Archie Andrews was brought up. Rolling her eyes, Betty paid it no heed. Her parents had never really approved of her dating the redhead next door, stating that she could do better than “a fickle boy with commitment issues and no backbone” (those were Hal’s strongly-expressed words). Ironically, they liked Archie just fine during the couple’s off-months, but the disapproval always reared its head when they got together again.

Betty didn’t really care. Despite the fact that she wished there weren’t any off-months to their relationship at all, she was just happy get to call him her boyfriend, three years running now. Archie had asked her to officially be his girlfriend the summer before their freshman year at university, and they were juniors now. And while they had their fair share of troubles—the amount of times they found themselves on off-months was a bit concerning, if she really allowed herself to dwell on it—it was like a childhood dream come true: _Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper’s boy._

Betty had grinned at the memories as she excitedly put on the maroon fuzzy sweater with balloon sleeves and a mock neck that Ronnie had sent her, among other fashionable pieces, from where she was currently vacationing in Paris ( _The art of being stylish takes no holiday breaks, bestie!_ ). The best pair of jeans she owned came next, as well as a pair of dainty earrings and the matching set of fashion rings. Pinning a part of her long locks back with a gold hammered-finish hair clip, Betty smiled at her reflection.

_There—perfect._

Putting on her wool cloak, Betty bid her parents over her shoulder before heading for Pop’s. A flurry of butterflies convened in her belly, and she walked the familiar path to the chock’lit shop mindlessly, her head in the clouds. She hadn’t seen Archie since Halloween, when the two of them met up with Chuck and Nancy for some good ol’ trick or treating fun. Since then, she had been counting down the days until they would both be back in Riverdale for the winter hols, missing him dreadfully in the days in between.

_No matter, I’ll be seeing him again in a few minutes. I can’t wait!_

Had she known that impending heartache and not a joyful reunion awaited her in their childhood haunt, she would have stayed home and never ventured out. But alas, she hadn’t, and so the former came crashing down on her like a bucket of freezing water.

“I don’t know how to say this, Betty,” Archie nervously fiddled with the paper wrapper of his straw. “You have to understand, I was caught blindsided by it.”

The flurry of butterflies quickly turned into a nasty swarm of locusts.

Avoiding her eyes, Archie smoothed out the wrinkled paper on the countertop. “I want to break up.”

Betty’s eyes widened in disbelief, her hands turning clammy.

_Why now?_

Heart pounding in her chest painfully, she managed to croak out, “For how long this time?”

Archie cleared his throat awkwardly. “For good.”

Working through the lump in her throat and the surprise clawing at her chest, Betty gaped. “Wh-what? Why?”

Sighing, Archie met her eyes briefly before glancing away. “I met someone else. From my sociology class.”

Betty felt the blood rush in her ears, the words ricocheting in her mind as she stared at him sighltessly.

_I met someone else._

_I met someone else._

_Met…_

_Someone else…_

“But it’s Christmas.”

Even to her own ears, the feeble reply was pathetic.

Shuffling in his seat, Archie flushed to the tip of his ears. “I kind of want to start dating Riley by the new semester…?” He trailed off like it was a question, and any other time, Betty would have found it endearing. But not right now.

Doubly hurt, tears pooled in her eyes. He was breaking up with her on Christmas? At Pop’s? And the reason was because he wanted to date a new girl by the New Year?

Unbidden, tears began to fall. From the corner of her eye, she vaguely registered Pop subtly pushing a napkin dispenser towards her in sympathy.

Grabbing a bunch of tissues, she sniffled.

“I don’t understand.”

Was this some kind of joke? Was she on some secret gag show?

Half-heartedly listening to Archie explain, she held in the urge to beg him to stay, to not break up with her, to _love_ her (like she loved him). She came close, mind you, but just as she opened her mouth to say the words, Ronnie’s drunken advice from when her first college-boyfriend broke up with her all those months ago came to mind.

_Don’t you ever beg a boy to stay, Betty dear. A boy who loves you will never put you in such a position. Know your worth!_

Between biting her tongue forcefully and eventually leaving a blubbering Archie at Pop’s, she had somehow found herself at the park. Collapsing on a bench, she pulled her legs to her chest and began sobbing in earnest into her knees.

How could Archie do this to her after everything they’ve been through?

Time seemed to escape Betty as she grieved into the night.

When her parents called to ask her whereabouts, she sullenly told them that she would be staying at Nancy’s, who had asked for a spontaneous girls’ night out. This was, of course, a complete lie, so she sent a succeeding text to her friend, loosely explaining the situation.

Nancy’s response sent the waterworks running once more.

_Don’t know what’s up, girl, but sure. You owe me one. Here if you need me._

Left to the quiet once more, Betty continued wallowing in her pity party until she got sick of it. Blowing into the last unsoiled tissue she’d taken with her from Pop’s, she rose from the bench and left the park.

She wanted to be alone, but she also wanted to be comforted now. Which brought her to the present.

Betty has little time to ponder on how she’s waking him from his sleep when the door swings open to reveal Reggie Mantle.

He’s grown a couple of inches taller since the last time she saw him, and though his hair is bedraggled, she can tell he’s still keeping it in the same style. He’s as fit as ever, that much is evident even through his T-shirt and sleep pants, and she wonders, not for the first time, how he’s been doing.

Brows furrowed in confusion, Reggie rasps, “Betty?”

The sound of his voice, quiet as it is, sends tears pooling in her eyes once more. They haven’t talked since That Night, and she feels the full force of the distance between them in that moment.

“Whoa, hey—Bets, what happened? Are you okay?”

The sleep all but vanishes from his eyes, and he reaches out to grab her arms. The warmth from his hands grounds her somewhat, and looking into the depths of his concerned gaze, Betty shakes her head.

Without a second thought, Reggie ushers her into the house and helps her remove her winterwear before leading her to the couch.

“My folks are visiting family up north right now, so it’s just us.” He informs her with the slightest hint of awkwardness. “They’ll be back in a day or two.”

Betty nods before looking down at her hands. She has yet to say anything.

“Right.” Reggie mutters, then turns to head into the kitchen. He comes back a few minutes later with a cup of tea and a bar of Kit Kat White, and Betty raises a brow at the sight of her favorite sweet—one that he absolutely detests.

“I keep a stash in the pantry,” Reggie says as he sits down a little ways from her, not meeting her gaze. “S’your favorite.”

Eyes softening at the admission, she manages to softly say, “Thank you, Reg.”

He gives her a wan smile before silently assessing her. She figures she must be shivering—from the cold or the breakup, she has no idea—because whatever he sees has him wrapping her with the afghan throw draped on the back of the couch.

“Oh!” she gasps, recognizing it as the one she’d knitted and gifted his mother for her birthday a couple of years ago. “You guys kept this old thing? Look at these stitches!”

Reggie scoffs, his eyes twinkling. “Are you kidding? Mom cried for an hour after you dropped it off. Said it was the nicest thing anyone’s ever given her.”

Betty chuckles in disbelief, and Reggie only smirks.

“Dad was real incredulous. ‘How about your engagement ring or that trip to Switzerland, huh?’”

Reggie’s impersonation of his father has Betty cracking up despite herself. She’s forgotten how goofy he could be.

He grins that lopsided smile she’s come to associate with him at his most relaxed, and she returns it with a soft one of her own.

A comfortable silence passes between them, and she recognizes it for the gift that it is. They haven’t had too many comfortable silences since That Night, and if she were being honest, she’s missed her friend—her _best friend_ (next only to Ronnie, of course, lest the girl lose her mind over being “replaced”)—plenty.

Reggie allows her to finish half her tea and the whole Kit Kat before cautiously asking, “Want to talk about what Andrews has done now?”

“How—” Betty begins, her brows chasing her hairline. At Reggie’s raised brow, she snaps her jaw shut and sighs. Of course he figured it out. He always does.

She’s quiet for a while, and she’s grateful that he doesn’t pry. He finishes his tea as she traces the patterns of the throw, and when he sets the cup onto the coffee table, she finally murmurs, “We’re done. For good.”

Exhaling slowly, Reggie frowns. “I would say good for you, but I feel like there’s more.”

Smoothing the fabric beneath her palms, Betty regales him with what the details of the breakup. No matter how much the distance—both emotional and physical—between them, she always finds it easy to open up to Reggie.

When she finishes her tale, a tense silence hangs in the air, interrupted only by her sniffles. From the corner of her eye, she watches as his hands curl into fists so tight, his knuckles turn white. His breathing has picked up a notch, and she knows he’s a millisecond away from hightailing it out of here and to the Andrews’ to skin Archie alive—late hour in the night be damned.

Wiping at her cheeks, she turns to him with pleading eyes. “Reggie, please don’t.”

Reggie’s nostrils flare and anger—at Archie and at her—flashes in his eyes. “Why not? He broke your heart for some girl he just met, Betty! He threw away three years—more if you count our childhood—for nothing, after years of stringing you along!”

Betty closes her eyes and shakes her head at the indignance on her behalf in his voice, tears continuously streaming down her face now. She feels Reggie turn to face her on the couch, each breath a study in barely restrained temper.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pummel him within an inch of his life.”

She can hear the words he isn’t saying, all the pent-up emotions and painful memories, and it adds to the bitterness of the moment that comes after.

Opening her eyes, she says, “Because I still love him.”

Her voice is weak and her eyes are sad, and the fight leaves Reggie like a deflating balloon. Something flashes in his eyes, something she’s seen before, and she hates that she’s taken them back to That Night—hates that she’s putting him through it again.

Reggie turns his head away, as if unable to look at her, and something breaks in Betty like she’s never known before.

“I’m sorry, Reggie,” she feels compelled to say.

_It wasn’t supposed to be like this._

Scoffing softly, he throws back the words she once uttered to him, a long time ago. “You should never be sorry about who you love.” He pauses heavily, his shoulder stiff and his jaw clenched. A sneer mars his handsome features. “Even if I will never understand why.”

The addendum is loaded with meaning, and it’s nearly enough to stifle them both.

Betty swallows the lump in her throat, wondering when the night’s quandaries will end.

Eventually, Reggie speaks again, much softer this time. “Feel free to stay the night. You can stay in the guest room or you can stay here—you know you’re welcome anywhere in the house.”

He rises from the couch and makes for the front door.

“Where are you going?”

If there’s a hint of panic in her voice, neither make mention of it.

“I need to clear my head.” Sensing the unrest his words cause, he continues, “I won’t go hurting him, Betty.” Faintly, she hears him mutter under his breath, “At least not today.”

He puts on his coat and trainers, and as he pulls a beanie over his head, he says, “Get some rest, Bets. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Reggie has a hand on the door knob when she calls out.

“Reg?”

He doesn’t turn around, but he pauses anyway.

“Thank you.”

There’s a pregnant pause, then he turns his head to the side, nods, and is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> work title from gracie abrams' _stay_ ; opening verse from lany's _hericane_. both are painfully wonderful, go give em a listen.
> 
> please leave a kudos, comment, or a message over at [tumblr](http://winterpolis.tumblr.com/), it'd absolutely make my day! i'd also love to hear your thoughts or if you want to just come say hi!


	2. winter — part i

Betty wakes up to the smell of coffee and sunlight dappling on her eyelids.

The bed beneath her is extremely soft as she stretches, the comforter warm and just on the right side of comfortably heavy. A sense of lightness sweeps over her as she tilts her face towards the windows, soaking in the sunlight and the quiet like a cat. It can’t be any later than nine in the morning, and she’s glad her parents have yet to call her. She just wants a few more moments of serenity before the questions and I-told-you-so’s barrage her.

Glancing around the familiar room, Betty feels a small smile stretch her lips. She’s been coming over at the Mantles’ long enough to recognize Vicky’s art hanging on the wall across from her when her eyes settle on it. The Mantle matriarch has a habit of rotating her paintings on the guest room every few months.

Recalling that she inevitably fell asleep on the couch the night before, waiting for Reggie to come home, she surmises that he must have carried her here when he finally returned. Wondering what time that must have been, her thoughts drift back to the events that led her to crashing at Reggie’s in the first place. Almost immediately, the levity which filled her a few moments ago is chased out by sadness and budding anger.

How dare Archie Andrews break up with her during her favorite holiday!

Rising from the bed, Betty makes her way to the en suite and is pleasantly surprised to find a set of her toiletries and some folded clothes sitting on the wood vanity. The Nordic piece features a straight slab of light, matted wood that downwardly curls in on itself on one end to form a shelf where towels, tissue rolls, and a scented candle are neatly arranged. No doubt, it is a product of Vicky’s eye for interior design and recent home renovation project.

Catching sight of the note tacked to the oversized round mirror, Betty grins at Reggie’s elegant handwriting. Chuck used to poke fun at Reggie for his “girlishly nice” lettering when they were kids, but she’s always found it a nice reprieve from the chicken scratch that their other male classmates owned, especially when she had to read through countless essays in said chicken scratch writing while helping Ms. Grundy grade papers. It made him seem more _refined_ , as Veronica would say, even if a younger Reggie had scowled at Vicky for making him practice his letters and cursives for hours on end.

> _Hey sleepyhead, wasn’t sure if these are still the products you use but didn’t know what else to get. Better these than smelling like Mom. Also had some of your clothes from the last time you stayed over (hope they still fit), no shirt though so you’ll have to settle for one of mine. Come down for breakfast when you’re ready._

Betty’s grin turns into a full-blown smile after reading Reggie’s note. It’s teasing and oddly touching at the same time—all the little things about her he’s remembered over the years and the lengths he’s going through just to give her some semblance of normalcy and comfort after her breakup. It makes her miss him and their friendship even more, even as he’s currently under the same roof as she. That Night really did a number on them, and she’s too aware that they’ve only swept its repercussions under the rug for the time being.

Shaking her head out of her rollercoaster thoughts and emotions, she shucks her clothes and steps into the shower.

By the time she enters the kitchen, Reggie has finished cooking up a hearty breakfast and the coffee is off the roaster. One of the things Rick splurges his sizeable wealth on is quality coffee, and both his son and his blonde best friend could only be blissfully grateful for it.

“Morning, Bets.”

Reggie looks up from setting a plate of hash browns and bacon on the table and shoots her a smile. It’s slightly pinched, likely in recollection of last night’s events, and Betty returns it in equal measure.

“Morning, Reg.”

The two wordlessly take a seat across from each other at the table.

Pouring them both a mug of coffee, Reggie asks, “Did you sleep okay?”

Betty takes hers with a murmured thanks. “Mm, Vicky sure does know how to pick her mattresses.”

Reggie chuckles. “Have you seen her latest piece? She calls it _Unveiled_.”

Quirking a brow, Betty takes a sip. “ _Unveiled_ , huh?”

Reggie nods, digging into his plate. “Don’t ask. Artist’s creative license and all that.” He waves a hand in the air, a moue of playful irritation on his face. “If you ask me, she just randomly picks a word out of the dictionary and decides on it.”

The quip sends Betty giggling, and the grin Reggie shoots her this time is genuine. They settle into mindless chatter after that, sticking to safe topics and vague life updates.

Once they’ve cleared the dishes of their offerings, they rise to work on the dishes together. Growing up alongside one another, they’ve developed a chore-buddy system that works well for them both, whether they be at the Coopers’ or here at the Mantles’. It’s one they easily slip into, even after all these years.

The ease with which they go about their morning surprises Betty. She can’t remember the last time they’ve managed to comfortably stay in the same room following That Night. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, she asks, “Got any plans for Christmas Day?”

Reggie shrugs as he scrubs a pan. “My folks will be back by then, so it’ll be the usual. Gifts in the morning, big feast at lunch, festivities in the afternoon, bigger feast for dinner, more gifts, caroling, and then a movie to round up the night.”

Betty smiles at the predictability. The Mantles have been celebrating Christmas Day in the same way since they were children. Over the years, she’s celebrated with the family a time or two, and it’s always a magical thing.

Reggie catches her smile and returns it. “How about you guys?”

She shrugs. “Same as it is every year. Although Chick won’t be by till the twenty-seventh and Polly the thirtieth, so it will just be me and the parents.”

A thoughtful look registers on Reggie’s face.

Cocking her head, she questions, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, but at Betty’s raised brow, he smirks. “I was just thinking—want to give the old times a run for their money?”

Betty’s eyes widen. “You can’t possibly be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting. We haven’t done that since the Christmas after we graduated from high school!”

Reggie scowls. “Why not? We had lots of fun in previous years, didn’t we?”

“We did,” she allows, “But I didn’t think you’d want to do it, given—well…” Trailing off, she looks away, suddenly awkward.

There’s a pause before Reggie’s mouth forms an O. Another beat passes, then he clears his throat. “I think we should do it. You know my folks will only be too happy to have yours over. They’ve always enjoyed spending the day with Alice and Hal.”

She rolls her eyes but playfully checks her hip against his. “Yeah, because Vicky gets to split the cooking load with Mom and Rick gets to show off the newest beans he’s procured and uncork another aged bottle of wine with Dad.”

Reggie throws his head back in laughter, and the sound startles her. She hasn’t heard that sound in a long while, and it brings a flood of warmth and ease with it.

“And we get to make the gingerbread houses you love.”

Betty chuckles. “You forget the caveat: unless we don’t end up in a food fight first.”

The two friends share a laugh, and when they settle down, both their eyes sparkle with joy.

“Do we have a deal?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Biting her lip to suppress a smile, Betty turns to the dish she’s rinsing.

“It can be arranged.”

The answering smile she receives makes the twinkling fairy lights seem pale in comparison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> managed to squeeze in this chapter in time for christmas eve! the next one will continue in the holiday spirit and should be up soon. in the meantime, i hope you guys like this filler-ish chapter. your support and kind words for this story so far have been wonderfully uplifting, and i wish you all a merry christmas, wherever you are in the world. <3


End file.
